Wicked Game
by Warlord1096
Summary: It was never a car which backfired during the guys' ride along in Season 5 - it had been a gunshot just as Ross had suspected. When he goes home that night to find a strange man sitting on his couch with news for him, he is pulled back into a world of lies and adventure, where he must race to protect his friends from an escaped criminal. A/U, with Ross as a Secret Agent.
1. TOW Ross' Secret

**Disclaimer: I don't claim ownership of F.R. I. E. N. D. S – this story is a non-profit work of fanfiction, and a farfetched one at that.**

**Note: That's right, this story features Ross as a secret agent. While people who are not fans of Ross may be turned off by this, I can only hope that this will be a good read for the rest. Besides, some aspects of the character may be altered for the plot - but I'll try to keep them as in character as possible! Please read and review! Now, onwards and upwards!**

**The One With Ross' Secret**

Slight clicking sounds echoed around the hall as he inserted his key into the lock, fiddling for a bit before he turned it smoothly. His door opened smoothly, and his eyes roamed over his empty apartment. The light from the alley outside washed over the living room, making strange shadows dance along his walls.

His eyes darted to one corner, his heartbeat picking up in an instant. His eyes narrowed when he saw nothing there; his instincts – even though they'd been dulled after a couple of years of inactivity – were screaming at him that someone had invaded his private sanctuary.

Almost unbidden, his hand travelled to the secret holster he kept in his coat. He cursed when he realized he hadn't carried it for the past couple of weeks, having made a conscious effort to wean himself of his old habits.

"Looking for this?" He jumped, his pulse spiking and his brain going into overdrive for a second, before he recognized the voice.

"Wilson," he acknowledged curtly, walking into the room and switching the light on. As the golden light swept over the room, he noticed that the curtains had been drawn and the phone unplugged.

His eyes turned to the man on the couch, lounging on it like he had no cares in the world. He was entirely nondescript – the sort of man whom you wouldn't remember moments after passing him in the crowd...but he was also one of the most dangerous men in the world.

"Jones," the man replied genially, a smile on his face. "Or is it just Ross Geller now?"

Ross Geller, for that was indeed his real name, frowned. He made his way over to the other end of the room, his back to his visitor so he could hide his countenance. For a while, there was silence in the apartment as Ross poured himself a glass of water.

He took his time turning around, making a show of taking sips of water. Wilson looked as calm as ever, a pleasant expression on his face as he looked at Ross.

"I haven't gone by the name Jones for quite some time, Wilson," Ross stated, even though his brain was racing a mile a minute.

"It's actually Leiter now," the man said, a touch of smugness entering his smile.

"Oh?" Ross cocked an eyebrow, "a promotion? Congratulations."

The newly christened Leiter winked, the grin never leaving his face.

"So, why the sudden visit?" Ross finally asked. While they'd worked together on some missions, Leiter had never really been one of his closer friends. Their departments had different protocols and employees, even though their ultimate aim was the same.

"I think you know," Leiter said, finally sitting forward and taking on a serious expression.

"It wasn't just a car backfiring tonight, was it?" Ross asked, his brow furrowed. "That was gunfire –"

He trailed off, looking questioningly at Leiter.

"It was," Leiter confirmed his suspicions, and his heart sunk. Ross collapsed heavily onto the sofa, his eyes boring into the man sitting next to him.

"What does this mean?" he asked, "who was this attack aimed at?"

"Well, the man who was shadowing you was the one who was attacked –"

"And I'm being followed by the agency, why?" Ross asked sarcastically. "I'm 31 – I've been done with the agency for almost two years."

"Ah," Leiter sighed, but Ross wasn't fooled by the act. "It seems, my friend, that the agency isn't done with you yet –"

"What?!" Ross shot up from his seat, an expression of disbelief etched on his face. "What d'you mean? I had a contract, a clear deal – and it ended as soon as I hit thirty! _We had an understanding!_"

"Hey – hey, calm down –" Leiter began, but Ross wasn't listening.

"I stuck around long enough, Leiter! I paid my dues, did everything they asked of me and more – I refuse to be dragged back into that life again!"

"I know, man," Leiter replied soothingly. Very slowly, he took his hand off the distress button on the device in his pocket, which would alert the half-dozen men situated strategically around the area. "It sucks. But I need you to calm down –"

Ross took deep breaths, reining in his anger as best he could. The agency's job often required him to put up an act, but his anger was a very real problem for him – he still shuddered when he thought about the job in China in '95 and how his temper had almost made him blow the mission.

"Alright," he said finally, when his pulse settled and his breathing evened out, "I'm calm. Now, what's going on?"

"It's Naveed," Leiter explained, and Ross remembered the excitable agent with the mind of a genius, whom he had worked with several times. "He was killed during a retrieval mission."

"Oh," Ross didn't know what else to say. He had liked the man, but death was an inescapable part of their job. "What was the mission?"

"To retrieve leaked agent information," Ross nearly choked on his own spit at Leiter's words. A security leak was the worst possible scenario imaginable for the agency.

"He managed to destroy most of the information before his target escaped," Leiter explained, "but he couldn't destroy it all."

"Let me guess," Ross said bitterly, "I'm on the list of people whose identity was leaked?"

"You got it," Leiter said, his voice somber. Ross cursed, loudly. Just when he'd thought that he'd have a chance at a normal life, he was being pulled back into the world he'd come to resent, even despise.

"How much do they know?" he asked, thinking furiously. He needed to leave, now. Tell the gang that he had a conference, maybe – the agency would take care of the rest.

There was a pause. And then –

"Everything."

Ross' heart stopped for a moment. "Wha- what d'you mean?" he stuttered, the words coming out in a jumble.

"They have your entire life, Geller," Leiter said, his grim face in stark contrast to his pleasant demeanour from minutes ago. "And we believe they've sold the information to Roberts."

"_What?!_" Edward Roberts, British socialite and underworld kingpin, had been one of the last people whom Ross had put away during his time with the agency. "Roberts is in jail!"

"Not anymore," Leiter shrugged. "M called a few days ago – he's on the loose again, and he's out for you."

Ross, who had been pacing the room furiously, stopped short at his words. The realization of what was really happening was beginning to sink in.

"I need to leave, then," he whispered, "get out of my family's way, away from my friends." Unbidden, the faces of the people he knew and loved flashed through his mind. Ben. Jack. Judy. Carol. Monica. Phoebe. Joey. Chandler. Rachel. _Rachel._

Just when he thought that he'd finally be able to pursue what he wanted, to live as he pleased –

"I'm afraid that'll be impossible," Leiter replied grimly. "When I said everything, Ross, I meant it. Your friends and family, they're in danger too –"

Ross' head was spinning, his breath seemed to be frozen in his chest.

"You promised –" he choked on his voice, "the agency promised that my family would be safe –"

"I know," Leiter raised his hands to try and calm Ross down, having no desire to face the brunt of Jones' legendary temper.

"THEN WHY IS IT THAT THEY'RE IN DANGER?" Ross roared, his face a mask of fury.

Outside, six guns removed the safety on their guns in one smooth, synchronous move. Ross froze.

"I see you've brought backup," he commented smoothly. The adrenaline rushing through his body seemed to be bringing back the old instincts that had served him over the years.

"They're also watching your friends," Leiter commented, "We've got people working on evacuating your parents and ex-wife as well."

"What are you going to tell them?" Ross asked. Everybody knew him as the geeky, socially awkward palaeontologist. He didn't think either Carol or his parents would believe it if people turned up, claiming that he worked for the CIA. Hell, nobody would.

"Well, they've both one vouchers to exotic holiday vacations in Hawaii and Majorca, on condition that they leave within two days. The agency looks after their own, Geller – and you were one of the best."

"Good," Ross nodded his head, trying to make sense of how his life had been turned upside down again. "And my friends?"

"First, I need to ask you –" Leiter pulled something out of his pocket, and Ross recognized the worn leather immediately. It was his holster, which held his custom Glock 19, proven to be his best companion over years of use. "Are you in?"

Ross looked at the object in Leiter's hand, before he reached out and took it. Pulling his pistol it, he felt immediately comforted by the familiar weight in his hand. "It's not like I have a choice, do I?"

Leiter chose not to comment. "Welcome back, Jones," he stated instead, standing up to shake Ross' hand.

"Do I have to keep that ridiculous name?" Ross complained, disregarding the serious nature of their conversation for a second. Besides, humour was one of the favourite defense mechanisms of the agent, to take the edge of any dangerous – or even worse, emotional – situations.

"It's stuck," Leiter said drily, before his shoulders suddenly stiffened. He pressed a finger to his ear, and Ross immediately berated himself for not noticing the tiny microphone radio in it.

"Come in, team Alpha," Leiter commanded, his voice suddenly deep and efficient, "report in sequence! I repeat, come in!"

A thrill went down Ross' spine, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in anticipation. There was something very wrong going on –

Leiter was rapidly issuing commands, and from the look on his face, things weren't going well. Ross rushed for his cupboard and threw it open, his eyes flying to the black ensemble hidden away in one corner of it.

He was pulling on his boots when Leiter re-entered the room. The man looked at him for a second, before nodding in approval.

"We'll need you," he said tersely. "Edward has already struck. Three of my team are down, the other three are pulling a retreat – "

"Where is he?" Ross asked, his voice ice cold.

"Jones, I need you to be –"

"Where is he?" Ross asked again, harshly.

Leiter sighed.

"Apartment 20. We need to –"

Ross blew past him, not even bothering to listen to Leiter's raised voice. He had only one thought in his mind – his friends were in danger. He knew that the rest of the girls were having a night together and Joey and Chandler had probably gone over in search of food –

He cursed, even as he unchecked the safety on his pistol and ran over several checks almost subconsciously. He made sure the suppressor was on, and then checked for ammunition and swore again; he'd forgotten to take more cartridges in his haste.

The decision whether to double back for some more was made for him in that instant, though.

A scream rang through the night, shattering the silence of the night.

It was Phoebe's voice.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, that's the first chapter. I'm new to the fandom, even though I love the show. Please review if you read this and enjoyed/did not enjoy this. **

**Also, Leiter is a reference to Ian Fleming's work, while the other name is obvious, I think. As for pairings, I'm not really sure of anything other than the already established Monica and Chandler.**

**See you next time!**


	2. TOW the Unexpected Guests

**Disclaimer: I do not own the TV show FRIENDS. This is a non-profit work of Fanfiction.**

* * *

**TOW With The Unexpected Guests**

"I'll get it," the springs in the couch groaned as Chandler jumped up, "I don't think the pizza girl can take another night of Joey hitting on her."

The girls grinned, while Joey just took the joke in good spirits and winked roguishly. "How d'ya think _she's_ doing?"

Chandler only shook his head good naturedly and twisted the doorknob open –

And before he could register anything else, he felt something cold and metallic pushed up against his forehead.

His eyes crossed comically, as he tried to make out what it was. His eyes turned upwards and ran across a muscular arm, holding a deadly silver pistol.

"I'm guessing you want a big tip?" the joke came out without thinking, and the next thing he knew, the gun had been forced into his mouth. Naturally, all his words died in his mouth.

He raised his hand in surrender; his throat suddenly felt extremely dry as he swallowed and his Adam's apple rode up and down.

The gesture seemed to please his attacker. He was an extremely large, muscled person, with a shiny bald head; small mean-looking eyes, and thin, cruel lips – all in all, he looked like the stereotypical goon from a B-Grade action movie.

Seeing Chandler's eye on him, the man nodded his head to the side with a smirk, where two other men of similar proportions were holding a box of pizza each.

"Pizza delivery," he said, his voice deep and full of dark humour.

"Chandler, is everything okay -?" Monica's voice reached his ears, and his heart leapt in fear. He tried frantically to gesture with his hands and tell them to run away, but the bald man was having none of it.

One single click. The man removed the safety on his gun, and Chandler froze on the spot.

"I bet _he's_ hitting on the pizza girl," Joey said, "you better watch him, Monica!"

"_Really_, Chandler?" Monica asked exasperatedly, "that better not be –" her voice stopped abruptly when she saw their surprise houseguests. The lead thug roughly pushed Chandler inside, who stumbled into Monica's arm. His girlfriend managed to prevent him from falling over and he shot her a grateful glance, but the two of them stiffened in shock when the three men strutted into the apartment.

"What's going on?" Rachel asked, reluctantly turning her head from the television. Her voice died in her throat when she saw the three intruders.

"That's right, sugar," the man who had threatened Chandler spoke up, and Rachel recoiled almost instinctively at his cruel voice, "keep shut, and we might just let you live."

Everybody's attention was on the man now; as one, the five friends backed away into the corner near Monica's room.

"What do you want?" Joey asked nervously, his eyes shifting from one thug to another, "we ain't got much here you can rob, man –"

Bald guy cut him off – he seemed to be the only one of the trio who was capable of talking. "What's going on, halfwit," Joey bristled indignantly, but Chandler grabbed his arm and held him back, "is that we need to ask you some questions, and it would be better for you if you cooperated with us."

"Yeah?" Joey asked, his drawl deepening thanks to his nervousness, "well, we don't coop – coope – we don't make nice with robbers!"

The brows of the three men furrowed, but it was Phoebe who came to their rescue.

"Oh, Joey, shut up," she said, throwing him an annoyed glance, "don't you get it?"

Bald guy through her a somewhat approving look for catching on so quickly. His expression faltered, though, when she continued speaking.

"This is one of those pranks for TV, obviously," she said, "come on guys, you really think those guns are real? My mother killed herself with one when she was fourteen, you know," she told the leader in a conversational tone, "it was really sad. But I learnt all about guns after that!" she said, brightening up.

The bald man turned to his two colleagues, and exchanged incredulous glances.

"Sweetie, just keep silent –" Monica, who had wisely realized that this was a very, very serious situation tried to rein her friend in while pulling on the sleeve of her dress.

"Oh, come on, Monica," Phoebe sighed. She turned to the men. "Forgive my friend, she's a bit of a killjoy. Do you want me to scream to make the prank more realistic?"

Having finished talking, Phoebe proceeded to do just what she'd said. The other two girls tugged desperately at her arms to quieten her, but she kept shrieking loudly.

Chandler winced; this could not lead to anything good.

He was right. There was a sound like that of a muffled cracker; something small and powerful whizzed past Phoebe's head and embedded itself on the wall behind her. The blonde's screams died a terrified death inside her throat.

"That real enough for you?" the man leered at Phoebe, who silently nodded her head in agreement.

"Good," he said, "because I really don't like whiners."

He motioned his hand to the other two, and they strode forward in unison. While the leader made himself comfortable on the couch with a sigh of appreciation, they looked out of windows, cut the telephone line, checked the other rooms and then searched the friends for any communication devices. Rachel pulled away with a look of nausea on her face as one of the men lingered much longer than he had to on her frame.

Undeterred, the man flashed an ugly grin at her, making her flinch away in disgust. With a wink and a blown kiss, he took up positions around them along with the final man.

"Now that all doubts are out of the way and you're mercifully silent," the man on the couch said, "it's time for a question and answer session. Careful with the tongue, now," he warned, "I've used up my quota of patience for today. I don't want to be losing my temper and killing anybody...yet."

The gang shivered in fear, unable to imagine the true depth of the situation they were in. All of them were thinking at that moment whether they'd make it out of this nightmare alive.

"What do you want from us?" Chandler question, hoping his voice did not reflect the terror the man's voice had struck in his heart. These men could just as easily kill him as make conversation with him.

"Like I said, I want you to answer some questions," the man said, "comply with me, and I'll be nice to you in return. Deal?"

Chandler didn't reply; only nodding his head instead.

"Ok, then," the bald man said. There was a pause, and then he asked, "Now,_ where is Ross Geller_?"

For a moment, everybody's brain froze. These dangerous people were looking for Ross, their geeky, awkward friend? Surely there had been some mistake? What had their friend gotten himself into, that such men would come looking for him?

"What has my brother done to you?" Monica demanded, even though her voice wobbled terribly when the man's gaze zeroed in on her like a viper. Chandler immediately knew that she'd made a mistake by giving away her relationship with Ross. Without even thinking about it, he stepped in front of her to try and protect her – he would put even his life on the line to save the woman he loved.

Nobody noticed the tall figure stealthily climbing up the fire escape and vaulting into the balcony; Ross' heart sunk when he took in the situation in the room. For a moment, he knew nothing but blind panic.

And then his rational mind took over; suddenly, he was back in a mission, his thoughts cold and efficient. His eyes ran over the room, taking in the situation and considering the variables.

He knew Monica kept the sliding window entrance to the balcony well-oiled, so he could slip in silently if he timed it right. In a stroke of good luck, one of the men was standing right near the balcony entrance. Another was in the opposite corner of the room near the door.

The final goon was approaching his friends – hot blood rushed through his head when he brushed past Chandler and caressed Monica's face.

"And what can you tell me about him, lovely?"

Ross sprang into action – lifting the window, he manoeuvred his way inside with one swift movement. He felt something pop in the region of his lower back and winced; he was going to pay for lightening his routine at the gym.

He brought his gun down on the back of his victim's head in one savage, powerful move. The man collapsed to the floor like a boneless sack of rocks.

Before the others in the room could realize what was going on, he brought his gun back up and fired Miraculously, his aim was true even though he had lost the ease with which he adjusted for the recoil. The man near the door clutched his hand and yelled in pain. He dropped to his knees, his gun clattering to the floor next to him.

"Freeze!" the bald thug had whirled around, clutching Monica to his chest, his gun to her head.

Ross froze for a second – he began to raise his hands, hating the smug look of victory on the man's face.

Chandler took the opportunity to creep up behind the man. Taking the vase next to the TV, who brought it down with all his might upon the man's head.

The man staggered, and Monica wriggled free, running back into Chandler's arms.

"You saved me," she breathed, her eyes wide.

"I did," Chandler agreed, equally surprised. With the rush of adrenaline coursing through him, he brought his head down and claimed Monica's lips with his own.

The girls couldn't help but clasp their hands together and coo at the sight.

"Is this _really_ the time?!" Ross yelled disbelievingly. Springing into action, he kicked out at the man next to him, who was trying to reach his gun with his good hand. He collapsed on the floor, while Ross picked his gun up and chucked it at Joey.

"Whoa whoa whoa," Joey fumbled the catch, even though he held on to the weapon in the end.

The group finally realized that it was _Ross_ who had rescued them; their mouths finally caught up with their brains.

Cries of '_Ross!' _and _'What the hell?'_ rang through the room, but Ross was too busy to notice.

The bald man was shaking his head; he fired off a shot and Ross dived and rolled behind the end table to escape.

His aim was terrible – the man was still woozy – and Ross was terrified that one of his friends would get hit. He vaulted over the man and ducked again, as another bullet whizzed over his head. He swept his legs in the hopes of catching the man off-guard, but the thug jumped over his legs. The man was well-trained, but Ross knew that he was better.

His next punch caught the man off-guard, and he seized hold of his wrist and twisted sharply. With a grunt of pain, the man dropped his gun and Ross kicked it away quickly.

Rachel scurried forward and picked it up, holding the gun awkwardly with her tiny hands. The action had cost Ross dearly, though. A meaty fist collided with his forehead, making him stumble. The next punch caught him in the gut, driving all the air out of him with one grunt and making him fall onto the sofa.

"This is it?" the man sneered, advancing on Ross, who was wheezing on the sofa. "This is the famous Special Agent Jones?"

Monica's whisper of '_Special Agent?'_ went unnoticed by the group, who were too caught up in the fight. Joey had his gun trained on the thug, who was sitting in the corner with his hand raised.

The man lunged for Ross, and the palaeontologist revealed at that moment that his fatigue had been an act. Faster than a striking cobra, he wrapped his legs around the man's neck and flipped himself over.

Special agents had to learn at least three different styles of combat, and Ross was proud of the brutal fighting style of Krav Maga which was on his resume. His knee wrapped around the man and twisted, and the man crumpled to the floor.

Acting like he just hadn't pulled a move that wouldn't be remiss in a superhero movie, Ross walked over to the other side of the room and clinically dispatched of the final thug with a ruthless jab to the throat.

He was about to pat them down to search for anything dangerous, when he suddenly noticed the eerie silence in the room. Suddenly extremely self-conscious, he turned around to see his friends frozen in different stances. The only thing common to them was the way their jaws were hanging open in disbelief.

It was, surprisingly, Joey who was the first one to become coherent again.

"_Dude?_" he asked, pointing weakly at the downed thugs with his mouth open, "_what the hell?!"_

The situation was awkward to say the least. Ross had never imagined that the day would come when he would have to confess to his friends about his other job, especially now that he had left that part of his life behind – or so he had thought. He cast his eyes around the room in desperation, searching for an excuse of some sort.

His eyes landed on the counter.

"So, pizza sound good to you?" he asked, smiling sheepishly in what he hoped was an innocent way.

Their expression changed in an instant; he was met with five identical killer stares.

"Guess not," he said, gulping nervously.

* * *

**Author's note: So, I hope you liked that. Please review! Thanks to MeganLucy26 for the first favourite, and ReginaPhalange24 for the review!**


	3. TOW the Reactions

**Disclaimer: Bright, Kauffman and Crane own the rights to the TV show FRIENDS. This is a non-profit work of fanfiction. **

**TOW the Reactions**

"Well, this is awkward," Ross finally said, running his hand through his hair. His friends were giving him identical looks of confusion, betrayal and – his heart sank – the slightest amounts of fear.

His pathetic attempts at lightening the atmosphere weren't working, either.

He was saved from being put on trial immediately by the appearance of Leiter. The man walked into the apartment like it belonged to a personal friend of his, and like he wasn't being followed by a group of suspicious looking men who were covered in blood and dirt.

"I'm guessing you made a stop to change your suit?" Ross asked drily, eyeing how Leiter managed to look perfectly immaculate even after he had probably been in a skirmish.

"You mustn't be jealous of your betters, Jonesie-boy," Leiter said, "Even though I suppose you managed to clean up rather nicely here," he commented, looking at the three downed men around him.

"Still got it," Ross replied, rolling his eyes. While he wasn't one to denounce humour on the gallows – an integral part of their lives – agents like Leiter took their sarcasm to extremes. "What took you so long?" he asked.

"Well, if you had stayed behind for a second, you would've realised that this was a diversion."

It fell into place for Ross. He grimaced; of course, it had been to cut and dry – intimidate the friends to draw out their friend.

"They got away," Leiter said, before he could say anything. "It seemed they wanted to search your apartment for something – any idea what it could be?"

Ross frowned, knowing _exactly_ what it was that they were looking for.

"I may have an idea," he said, wary of disclosing anything.

"Excuse me –"Monica cut through their conversation, and Ross was a bit intimidated by how shrill her voice was – never a good indication. "But what the _hell_ is going on?"

Leiter looked amused. "Judging by the looks on their faces, I'm guessing they're unaware of your part-time job?"

"You think?" Ross asked, making a face. Sighing, he turned around and gestured to his friend. "Why don't you all take a seat?" he asked, trying to do damage control to the best of his abilities.

"Oh, this should be good," Leiter said. Ross gestured to him over his shoulder as well, but it wasn't a very pleasant one. The rest of the men shifted, and Ross threw them a dirty look.

"What are you looking at?" he said, displaying some of the temper agents with his name were famous for. He swept his hand around the room. "Get cracking, now! I want DNA swabs and complete ID and histories, I want possible employees, and I want them the hell out of the apartment NOW!"

The men snapped to attention, and went about their jobs with a series of sharp nods. One of them, however, hung back.

"Sir?" he asked, shrinking back a bit when Ross turned to him with a venomous glare. When he didn't speak, though, the agent spoke up again. "Is it…is it true that you're –"

Leiter realized that Ross didn't need the added stress of a hero-worshipping rookie, and immediately moved to intercept. "Marshall," he ordered sharply, his amused tone gone, "get to work. That was an order."

The man hesitated, but threw Ross a last look before moving away. Ross was sure he muttered something along the lines of 'I just want an autograph…'

"Right," he said, taking a deep breath. "Where were we? Right, why don't you guys take a seat?"

"I think we'll stand," Monica said icily. The others shifted, but nodded their heads resolutely in support.

"Guys," Ross sighed, "please don't make this any harder than it has to be –"

"Harder than it has to be?! _Harder than it has to be?!_" Ross winced. Surprisingly, it wasn't Monica, but Rachel who had exploded first. "Our apartment was just invaded by assassins, Ross! They touched – they touched me like I was some sort of object –"

White-hot anger flashed through him at her words; he felt the irrepressible need to hurt the people who had so obviously hurt and unsettled Rachel.

"I thought I was going to die, and then you turn up out of nowhere like a superhero and do – do this!" Rachel finished, gesturing wildly with her hands.

"Ooh, she's fiery," Leiter commented. He wilted slightly before the combined force of Rachel and Ross' glares. "Er, I think I'll just make some calls in the hallway," he said, standing up and brushing his suit. Leiter knew his limits and even relished dangerous situations, but even he knew better than to get in the way of an angry woman.

Ross turned back to his friends once the man had left, shutting the door and leaving him alone in the apartment with his friends.

"Er, they weren't really assassins," he said, wincing internally. He was supposed to be a smooth, suave agent, but in front of Rachel's cold blue eyes, he felt like a little boy who'd been caught with his hand in the candy jar. "Real assassins are –"

"Oh, so they weren't _real_ assassins!" Rachel said, "That makes me feel so much better! Those were _real_ guns they were carrying, and that was a _real_ bullet that they almost killed Phoebe with!"

Ross' eyes immediately travelled to his eccentric friend, who was indeed looking more sombre than usual.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, his stance slumping. "I never meant for you to find out –"

"Find out _what?_" Monica finally challenged him, "_what_ exactly is going on here, Ross?"

"Look," Ross replied, deciding he might as well say it. "There's no easy way to say this – "

He ran his hand through his hair, spiking it up into an even messier disarray. "I'm a secret agent," he said, wincing at the identical looks of shock that passed over his friends' faces. "I have been for just over a decade –"

"And you never told us?" Monica asked him. "You let us think that you were working in some boring job at the museum, while you were out stopping criminals and doing deadly missions?"

"Hey, I _did_ work at the museum," Ross protested, "and it isn't a boring job!" he couldn't help but add, almost out of habit. Chandler rolled his eyes, but it went unnoticed.

"But you're not denying the part about the deadly missions?" his sister shot back – she always had a way of pinning him to the corner during their arguments, ever since their childhood.

"Look, it came with the job description," he said, "and besides, not all of them were life-or-death missions," he continued, trying to console her.

"And that's ok?" Rachel asked, "You're telling me that all those digs you went to, they were actually secret missions? And that you might not have returned to us one day, and all we'd be told is that you had some sort of accident?"

Ross pressed his fingers to his eyes, trying to drive away the headache that he could feel coming on. "Look, guys," he said, "There isn't anything I can do about it. I wish that I could've told you under different circumstances, or that I'd never have to tell you at all –"

"You lied to us," surprisingly, it wasn't any of the girls who'd spoken up, but Joey. The actor had always been the most easy-going and childlike of them all, but his face was now solemn. "You're our friend, Ross, and you hid something like this from us?"

"I actually agree with Joey here – you hid something _big_ from us," Chandler finally said, but noticing Ross' crestfallen expression, he quickly added, "but might I add here how kickass it is that my best friend is a secret agent?"

Joey couldn't help but nod his head significantly at that, and even Phoebe made a sort of enthusiastic noise. Ross turned to her, his expression turning to one of concern.

"You okay?" he asked concernedly.

For once, she was completely serious with him. "I guess," she said, "but getting shot at like that brought back some bad memories…"

"Oh, come here Phoebs," he said, holding out his arms. For a second, she hesitated, but then she walked right into his hug, much to his relief. He held her in his arms, rubbing her back soothingly and whispering in her ear.

"It's okay," he said, "you're with us now, and you'll be fine. It's okay."

She sunk into his embrace as he rocked her gently from side to side. There was a respectful silence for their moment before she broke away, looking much better than before. "You're still my friend," she said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek, "only so much sexier than before, Dr. Geller."

She ended her words with a sexier tone, winking at him saucily. He couldn't help but grin, causing her to flash one of her own.

"What?" she asked innocently, playing with her hair and eyeing him up and down, "doesn't the secret agent end up sleeping with the hot, single lady?"

"I think we're digressing from the actual matter here," Rachel interrupted them loudly, and if it was a bit hurried, nobody noticed. "How can we just forget that Ross lied to us about himself, led us to believe he was someone he obviously isn't –"she shot him a withering look. "I dated you," she hissed, and Ross felt his stomach drop out slightly. He had entertained the idea of telling her once before, and this was the exact reaction he'd feared. "I – I slept with you –" she said, her voice wavering slightly, "was any of that anything more than a lie for you? Did it even mean anything to you, Mr. Secret Agent?" she asked, her last words mocking.

"Hey," Ross said hotly, "don't you ever doubt that my feelings for you – for any of you –"he amended, looking around the room, "were anything less than absolutely genuine. I would take a bullet for any of you," he said, "especially you." He finished daringly, not taking his eyes off her. She flushed, averting her gaze from him.

"But you have to understand, man," Chandler spoke softly – he seemed to be the one who was taking this the best, "it's a lot for us to take in at once."

"I know," Ross said; he couldn't help but feel exasperated. Did they think this was easy for him, to stand before them and confess another side of himself to them? Did they think that he wasn't terrified that he would be judged by the five people he loved more than anybody else on the planet? "I _know_. It isn't exactly a party for me, either –"

"Have you ever killed anybody?" Ross flinched - Rachel sure seemed to be in the mood to be asking the hard-hitting questions tonight.

But there was no beating around the bush, Ross realized. With these new complications, he had to come clean with his friends. "Yes," he said, hating himself when he saw all of his friends shrink away from him, "yes, I have. And I would do it again," he said, taking them by surprise.

"You would?" Monica asked, her voice quiet.

"Mon," he said, using his childhood nickname for her, "I don't kill for fun – I avoid it if I can. I work to protect the interest of my country, to protect the lives of its people. I've killed for my country before, and if the situation calls for it, I'll have to do it again."

"I don't know you," Rachel spat, an undecipherable expression on her face. "I can't believe that I _loved _you – you're a murderer –"

Something inside Ross broke at her words. He felt hollow, like the world was falling away beneath his feet. He knew Rachel was hurt and speaking unthinkingly – she could never say such hurtful words – but it hurt all the same. Rachel kept speaking, not noticing how she was stabbing Ross in the heart with every one of her words.

"I thought that I'd been betrayed by you once before, Ross," she said, her voice wavering, "And it was the hardest thing I'd ever been through. The one man I'd thought would never lie to me did so, and it broke my heart. And now, I realize that he isn't even the man I know – How can I _ever_ trust you again?"

Ross stumbled back – her words were like a physical blow to him. "Rachel –" he tried to speak, but his voice seemed to be stuck in her throat.

It was Phoebe who stepped forward to his rescue.

"Y'know Rach," she said, her voice holding none of its ever-present humour. "I've killed someone too."

There was a sharp intake of breath around the room – even Ross felt startled.

"I was fifteen, and my mother had died months ago. I was weak, hungry, and this man – he came up to me, blind drunk – he tried to –"

Ross moved to her side, putting his arm around her shoulder. "I killed him," Phoebe stated, baldly, bluntly. "I carried a knife with me – I stabbed him seven times. He bled out next to me. Does that make me a murderer too? Does that mean you'll hate me too?"

Rachel seemed to be at a loss. Ross tightened his grip around Phoebe, pulling her into another hug.

"Thank you," he said. He knew how hard it had been to Phoebe; and he had definitely heard the plea in her voice – she had begging her friends, any one of them, to tell them that she wasn't a killer.

"You could never be a murderer," Ross whispered in her ear, "you're my best friend." She looked at him with teary eyes, and he couldn't help but add, "my _extremely_ sexy best friend."

She gave him a wobbly smile at that. He thanked Psych 101 at the Firm for teaching him how to cheer up even crying women.

"Ross is right," Joey said, his voice cracking as well. "The two of you are my friend. I don't believe any of you are killers –"

"You're my brother," Monica said, finally, having got over her anger. She looked at him earnestly, a wan smile on her face. "I agree with Joey."

"Could this _be_ any more emotional?" Chandler interjected, desperately trying to lighten the situation before he started crying.

Ross threw him a small, grateful smile, but his attention was on Rachel.

"That's different, Phoebs," she said, sounding uncertain.

"_How, _Rach?" Phoebe asked. "You've known Ross for over half your life! Do you really think he could kill anybody in cold blood?"

"Phoebe, please," Rachel pleaded, silent tears tracking down her face. "I thought I knew him – I thought I loved him – but this changes everything –"

"Rachel –" Ross tried again, desperately trying to let Rachel's words not affect him. _I thought I loved him._

She ignored him, tearing him apart further, instead sinking into the couch and putting her head in her hands.

"Why didn't you tell me, Ross?" she asked, not meeting his eyes.

"Rachel," he let go of Phoebe and walked over to her. He knelt in front of her but she turned away, still not looking him in the eye. "I couldn't. I _couldn't_ put any of you in danger, especially you. Rach – _Rach –_" he begged, and his heart leapt when she finally looked at him with watery blue eyes. "I'm still the same person," he said, desperately wishing that she would understand. "I'm still crazy about dinosaurs, I still love all of my friends, I still cheat hotels out of everything I can –" she gave a watery chuckle at that, "and I'll always be your best friend. I'll always be Ross."

He took her hands in her, pleased that she didn't object. "Please, Rach," he begged, "I'm not a different person. There's just another side to me. Please, _please_ try to understand –"

There was silence for a moment, and Rachel took a few deep gulps of breath before she spoke again.

"I won't lie," she said, and his heart sank, "this won't be easy. I thought I knew everything about you, Ross – I thought that's what made our relationship different when we were together – that's what gave me my fondest memories –"

"You still think about those times?" Ross interjected, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice. The two of them didn't notice the rest of their friends – they were huddled around Phoebe and offering her comfort – roll their eyes in unison.

"Of course," she said with a watery chuckle. "How could I not?"

His heart, which felt like it had been stuffed with lead only seconds ago, was suddenly fluttering somewhere up in the upper atmosphere. "Then believe me, Rach," he begged, "I'm still the same guy. I'm still the same _Ross_."

She gave another choked sob, and he pulled her into a hug. They swayed together for several moments, and he relished how she melted into his chest like she had never left in the first place.

She pulled away at last, after what seemed like an aeon. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes downcast. "I shouldn't have said that. You could never be a murderer. _Ever._ I got confused, and angry –"

"And you got all Rachel," he said with a small chuckle, making her blush and playfully punch him on the arm.

"Does this mean they'll finally get together and do it?" Joey whispered, leaning over to speak in Phoebe's ear.

"I don't know," she whispered back, "it's never that easy with them –"

"And they can also hear you," Ross said loudly, making them jump and Rachel giggle. He sat down on the floor, Indian style. "We'll be okay, right?" he said, squeezing Rachel's hand, which was still intertwined with him.

She squeezed it right back. "We will," she said, and his other friends concurred.

Ross couldn't help the smile that spread over his face. It had been tough, as tough as he had imagined – but they would get through it. Of course they would. They were best friends.

"So," said Chandler hesitantly, "now that we've established the facts, _what_ is it exactly that you do?"

"Well –" Ross said, not knowing how exactly to satisfy the curious light in all their eyes.

"He's one of our top special agents," Leiter said, making them all jump. "That was a very touching performance, by the way –" he grinned when Ross through him another gesture identical to before. "He's a _special_ special agent, you can say. Curator and probable Professor by day, and deadly agent by night."

"Probable Professor?" Monica asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh, it's nothing," Ross said, "just some talk that's going around. Some of my old friends were impressed by my work in Palaeontology, and offered me a guest lectureship at NYU –"

'_Ross!' 'That's fantastic!'_ Identical expressions of congratulations went around the room, and Ross grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah, well, he didn't want to teach at Marshall College like his mentor –"

"Let's not get into that now," Ross said, before Leiter could get started.

"That's all well and good," Chandler said, "but that still doesn't answer my question."

"Oh, I think you'll find out more over the next few days," Leiter said lightly, before he focused his attention on Ross, "but for now, we need to talk."

**Author's note: Well, I had to end it there because this chapter became surprisingly long – well, in comparison to the limits I've set for this fic. Some parts of the chapter wrote itself – and I was apprehensive on the subject of killing. But then again, BKC have maintained that FRIENDS was always about the friendship between the six of them, and I feel – hope? – that Phoebe's confession added more depth to the story.**

**While this story won't be extremely long, updates will be erratic. It's my final year at school, and the workload is killer. But let's not get into that here.**

**Also, thanks to everybody who reviewed – Vallavarayan, MeganLucy26, debbiefriendsfan, ReginaPhalange24 and fan! You guys are awesome! Also, I'll have to treat Phoebe's mother's death as A/U in this story, then.**

**I eagerly await your reviews! Hope you liked it! **

**PS – You get brownie points if you read this long author's note. Oh, and a shameless plug - if you feel the inclination, do R&R my other Friends fanfic, TOW Rachel Decides. **


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